The bonds we make
by fanficsofclare
Summary: John finds himself all tied up. BDSM, SnM, restraint ect.
1. Chapter 1

The bonds we make

~Sherlock~  
His eyes are on me again, I can feel them. Undressing me, raking over every inch of my skin. It's torturous. Tension building between us, always, constant, unbreakable.  
And as soon as I look back, his eyes flicker away to the ground. He doesn't want me to know, know what I already guessed. I scan his face, handsome and scarred with worry, looking for signs.  
"Sherlock, why are you looking at me like that?" He asks me, briefly looking back into my eyes before blushing ferociously and returning his gaze to the ground.  
"Like what?" I return his question with a question, the corners of my mouth slightly turning up into a smirk.  
"Like... Never mind." John splutters, embarrassing himself further, which I seem to find attractive. He swallows the ever growing lump in his throat.  
That throat of his, god. How must it be like to kiss that throat?  
"Sherlock?" He asks, looking up and holding my gaze with such innocence. Beautiful, I think.  
"Yes, John." I answer, using his name to make him think about me even more.  
"Have you ever loved someone? I mean, did you love Irene, do you?"  
"Yes and no." I smirk, not breaking eye contact.  
"Oh." He says, raising an eyebrow. "Anyway, goodnight Sherlock, try to get some sleep tonight." John stands and walks to his room, giving me a delightful view of his arse.  
Of course I won't get any sleep, I don't sleep, but it's nice to know he's concerned. I smile as he leaves, knowing someday I'll have him at my mercy.  
X  
During the night, I'm lying on the sofa, thinking about my favourite methods of restraint, when I hear John come down the stairs.  
"Sherlock? Why are you still awake?" He whisper shouts, not wanting to wake Mrs Hudson.  
"I don't sleep." I explain, for the millionth time.  
"I'm worried about you, Sherlock. Is there anything that will make you sleep?" He asks, concern in his face.  
"Sex." I reply honestly, a smile spreading on my lips.  
"Well, I'll get you a prostitute." John laughs, half joking half not. He walks over to the sofa, lifting my legs and sitting down, bring my legs over his lap.  
We're silent, for once I'm unsure what to say. Is there a single sentence to make him mine?  
He starts absentmindedly tracing his forefinger over my exposed skin, which is there because I'm wearing his small pyjamas.  
"Sherlock are you wearing my clothes?" John asks, tugging on them.  
"Yes." I say.  
"Give them back." He demands, tugging harder on them, pulling them down over my hips slightly. His eyes flicker up and I see the realisation I'm his dawn, that I wasn't wearing any underwear.  
"You just want to take my clothes off, at least buy me dinner first!" I joke. John looks surprised at my sudden humour.  
"What... No... I don't...of course not... I... Shut up." He stammers, I can see his cheeks redden.  
Silence once more, Johns voice deafening in its absence. I'm watching him from the corner of my eye. He glances to my hips, licking his lips greedily.  
I stand up to turn the TV off, unable to ignore the blinking red stand by light. On return to the couch, I lay down with my feet away from John, resting my head on his lap.  
I felt him tense. Bringing his uncomfortable hands from his sides to the air, unsure what to do with them.  
I turned my head to look up at him fumbling with his own hands, smiling at the ridiculous sight.  
"Sherlock...?" He said, uncertain of the outcome.  
"John.." I purr.  
I start pulling his hand down into my hair. It rests awkwardly, not moving for fear.  
"Go on." I say, closing my eyes and snuggling into him.  
"But.. I... er." John stammers.  
I open my left eye, raising an eyebrow.  
The hand in my hair starts to move, soothing me into a long awaited sleep.

* * *

~John~  
When I wake up, I noticed Sherlock was gone. I try to sit up, but restraint pulls me back. My arms are in the air, secured with hand cuffs to the ceiling.  
"Sherlock?!" I call out, struggling to loosen the entrapment to no avail.  
"So you're awake?" He says, coming into the room from the shadows.  
"Why am I chained up?" I ask, tugging on the chains for effect.  
"For multiple reasons, would you like me to list all 10?" He smirks that stomach clenching smirk and walks closer, looping a finger round the chain.  
"Just explain.." I groan, sick of his games and experiments.  
"Number 1. You were off guard, never let your guard down." He growls, trailing his hands down the chain to my hand, dancing his fingers over the handcuff.  
"I fell asleep. It's human nature!" I yell, trying to tug my hands away. He holds it tightly, refusing to let go.  
"Number 2. You made me vulnerable. Caused me to go to sleep for a while." He continues, walking his fingers down my arm to my chest.  
"Number 3. For making me rest, you deserve to be punished." His fingers start unbuttoning my shirt, slowly one by one.  
"Sherlock stop!" I shout, using my foot to try and kick him away. He just frowns and pulls rope from his pocket, tying my feet down in a swift movement. "Stop." I shout again.  
"Number 4. You threw out my eyeball experiment yesterday, which deserves more punishment." He looks angrily at me from above.  
His hands drop from my shirt, now fully open and hanging wide. He lays his cold pale hands flat against my bare chest. He runs the down to my belt, on his knees in front of me.  
This is where I start to panic.  
"No." I command, trying to assert my role as army man.  
He doesn't listen or stop, instead loosening the hole from the belt buckle and whipping it from my trousers.  
"Sherlock, did you change my clothes? I was wearing Pyjamas. And stop this nonsense!" I demand. I'm angry and I'm scared.  
"Number 5. You really have been asking for it recently." He ignores me completely, not able to reject him any other way then verbally.  
Sherlock, thankfully, moves his hands away from my trousers, reaching into his pocket and standing up.  
He pulls out a thin blue ribbon. I have no time to question or wonder about it, as it is shoved into my mouth and tied behind my head.  
I can only muffle my protests as he bends down again.  
"Number 6. I've seen the way you look at me." He says, still counting off.  
Sherlocks slender fingers lay across my thighs, rubbing softly.  
I shake my head, no.  
"Number 7. You want this. You want it bad."  
No, I'm trying to scream but I can't. I'm trapped.  
"Number 8. You seem to enjoying it." He smiles, raising his hands to my crotch to prove his point. I squirm.  
I don't want it to feel this good.  
"Number 9. It's time I showed you." Show me what?  
He stands again, leaving me aching and bare. My hands fall to my sides and I realise the handcuffs are gone. The rope pulled from my legs and my belt and shirt thrown back at me.  
Sherlock just walks away.  
After all that build up.  
It was... It was... It was torture.  
I pull the ribbon from my mouth.  
"Wait, Sherlock. Where are you going? What was the point of this? WHAT'S NUMBER 10?" I shout after him, standing and following him.  
He enters his bedroom and I can hear faint laughing.  
What have I gotten myself into?


	2. Chapter 2

The bonds we make 2  
Chapter name:  
3 times we met in the corridor.  
~Sherlock~  
The first time I meet him in the hallway, he wants to pass but I don't let him, shoving against the wall, hips to hips.  
"Sherlock, stop." He pleads, squirming underneath me.  
"John." I moan in his ear and I feel him shiver. I grind into him, trying to ignore to the shock of pleasure and focus on making him feel it.  
He tries to resist but I know he's getting turned on. I could so easily kiss him, but I won't.  
Poor John, he must be so confused, so aroused. The thought putting a smirk on my face again.  
Next time, I'll push even further. Try to reach my boundaries. What I can do to him before it affects me. How long I can last without consuming him.  
"See you later." I whisper, pulling away but letting my fingers linger on my wrists.

The second time lasts longer. I don't manage to pin him up against the wall, and we tangle up and hit the ground. He's beneath me, wiggling about trying to escape.  
My fingers pin his wrists above his head, and travel down his body, coming face to face with his groin.  
With the zip now undone, I cause him to pant and squirm and moan just by breathing heavily, ever so often blowing out air in quick puffs.  
He kicks me away after much effort and scrambles to his room.

The third time, he sees me coming. He manages to force me to the ground, sitting on top of me. I can't move.  
"Sherlock, why are you doing this?" He asks.  
I don't answer.  
He brings his face closer to mine. I can feel his breath, hot and sweat on my skin.  
"What's number 10?" He begs for the answer.  
I push him off and walk away.


	3. Chapter 3

The bonds we make 3  
Chapter name:  
Game over.  
~John~  
It sickens me how much I need to know number 10. It's all I ever think about now.  
I can't let him do that to me, it's wrong. So very wrong and makes me feel wrong. It's dirty and twisted. It's horrible.

Fuck.  
My eyes flicker open. My legs are tied down and I tug on my arms, which are chained to the bed posts.  
I don't remember sleeping, I didn't even feel tired.  
I taste lead in my mouth and bite down on cold metal.  
"Sherlock?" I try to say but it's muffled by the metal bar.  
"Good morning John, how did you sleep?" Sherlock smiles, standing up from a chair.  
"Fuck you!" I try to yell, only managing a muffled version.  
"Watch yourself John, I wouldn't recommend pissing me off, while I'm in charge here." Sherlock smirks, running his finger over my jaw and down my neck, raising goosebumps.  
"Do you realise how beautiful you look like this?" Sherlock says, lifting my chin so I can't avoid his stare. I stare back, standing my ground, refusing to blink.  
Then the itching question comes to my mind. Number 10. What was number 10?  
I push, hard, on the metal bar with my tongue, somehow freeing it my mouth. It hits the floor with a clutter.  
"What's number 10?" I ask, still staring at him.  
"Number 10..." He draws out the sentence, edging his face closer to mine.  
Our lips are so close, my breathing hitches. He's going to kiss me.  
He pulls away last minute.  
He removes his hand from my face, lingering with soft touches. More goosebumps.  
He bends down on both knees, hands now on my shoulders.  
"You fell asleep. Asleep means weakness. I told you already." changing the subject.  
"I need sleep!" I protest.  
"I know, shh. It's okay." He says, covering my lips with a soft slender finger, before moving it back to my shoulder.  
His hands moving in circles, massaging my shoulders. I roll my head back, it's feels kind of nice.  
"You like it." He says, smirking at me.  
"Everybody likes massages." I pout.  
"No, you like this. The restraint, the fear that I could do anything I wanted to you. It turns you on. You want this." He deduces, stringing me up to dry. It's not true, I try telling myself, but I'm not even sure anymore.  
I don't know what to say to that, so I don't say anything at all.  
His hands slide down my chest to my waist, resting there. Warmth spreading to all the wrong places and the butterflies in my stomach makes me hate myself.  
"Sherlock..." I warn, although there's nothing I could do.  
"John, why must you resist me? You know I couldn't hurt you, not now not ever." His thumbs slipping under my T-shirt, tracing circles on my skin.  
I squirm, trying to get away from the amazing feeling. He stops and I whimper like a sex crazed pig.  
"Should I continue?" He asks, unsure.  
I close my eyes tight and nod against my own will, controlled by a terrible need.  
I feel the warmth return and it's heavenly, although it shouldn't be.  
"Just-" I can't speak. "Just tell me what number 10 is." I'm begging.  
"I can't." His hands rise further up my bare chest, under my shirt.  
"Untie my hands!" I demand, and the warmth disappears while he unlocks the handcuffs.  
Then the hands return, warm and delicious. I can't stand being away from him, needing to touch and taste and devour.  
I pull up my shirt and over my head, freeing his hands to roam further and quicker.  
"My legs!" I yell, too far away from him. He quickly removes the rope.  
I bring him down on top of me, pulling by his shirt, unbuttoning it quickly. I let it slip torturously slowly off his pale porcelain shoulders. I bring him in and our lips meet in a passionate embrace.  
He moves away, as if burned by my touch, staring in horror.  
"Sherlock?"  
He stands, walking away, then running, then sprinting. I hear his bedroom door creak open and slam shut.  
"Come back." I whisper to no one.  
~Sherlock~  
That was close. I almost lost it. Almost lost all control and gave into the burning need to devour him. If I hadn't stopped myself...  
I was touching him and he was touching me back. He wanted me. That's all I needed. I can stop this stupid game now.  
Game over.


End file.
